Final Appeal (24 page)

Professor Zimmer smiled as he passed the first statue, a granite Madonna and child that looked to him like a large blob of rock holding a smaller blob of rock. There were many Madonna's on Statuary Walk, along with a plethora of Christs, some on the cross, others off. It was predictable that the sculptures created by Gateway art students should have predominantly religious themes. There had been quite a scandal last year when one of the most talented graduate students had submitted his sculpture entitled
Whore of Babylon
, an extremely realistic bronze nude. The
Whore of Babylon
had not been assigned a place on Statuary Walk, even though Professor Zimmer had seen it and thought it really quite beautiful.

The most famous of the statues on display was called
Revelation
. As far as Professor Zimmer could make out, it was a crouched figure with multiple limbs and a huge head with multiple faces representing the major ethnic groups who lived in Los Angeles. The student who had sculpted it had come from a wealthy family who had purchased an enormous block of expensive black marble for their son to chisel away. Professor Zimmer had seen the marvelous block of stone when it had been delivered, and he wished the student had called his statue
Revelation Hidden in Black Marble
and left it just as it was.

Revelation
had been featured in a television series last year, and Professor Zimmer had gathered with the other professors in the fine arts department to watch it on the university's large television monitor. The husband and wife in the episode had owned a detective agency and their son was a talented magician. The son's task was to create the illusion that the statue had been stolen when it was actually right there on Statuary Walk. If the son could do this, the bad guys would be fooled into letting their hostage go. The board of Gateway University been paid ten thousand dollars a day to allow actors and crew on the college campus for the three days it took to shoot the episode.

Professor Zimmer walked past
Revelation
and sighed. Perhaps he just didn't understand modern art because he thought the acclaimed statue was ugly. It certainly looked both ugly and threatening tonight. In the shadow from the floodlights, the multiple limbs seemed to be reaching out for him, moving closer and closer like some prehistoric beast on the prowl. Even when the statue was behind him, he could still see the grotesque shadows it cast on the walkway, growing larger as he walked away from the light source. Perhaps it had been a mistake taking Statuary Walk tonight. For a moment there, he'd actually imagined that one of the elongated shadows had moved.

There it was again! Professor Zimmer whirled around, but no one was in sight. He must be more tired than he'd thought. Not only was he experiencing visual hallucinations, but now his auditory senses had come into play. He was almost positive he'd heard stealthy footsteps in the area just beyond the light. His imagination, coupled with exhaustion from his week at the convention, was affecting his mind. His instincts told him to flee for the safety of his car, but he knew he'd feel foolish if George were watching, and he burst out of Statuary Walk as if demons were chasing him.

Deliberately, the professor walked forward, keeping his steps measured and even. There was nothing beyond the floodlights except his own over-active imagination. The last sculpture on the walk, a cast bronze called
Pagan
, was one of his favorites. It had been installed only a month ago, and it was a composite of many ancient gods. Professor Zimmer didn't know that much about mythology, but he enjoyed trying to identify the gods that were represented. Since the feet of the statue had wings, he assumed they indicated the Roman god Mercury. The figure was in a crouch like the Titan Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders. And here was something he hadn't noticed before—there were several places on the statue's head where the hair was coiled in ropelike strands. Was that Gorgon Medusa's influence? Of course he recognized the Norse god Thor, holding his hammer. What was it called? He had looked it up just the other day. Oh yes, Mjolnir. And then there was another god, one he couldn't quite remember that . . .

The professor stopped abruptly. Something behind the statue had moved. He was sure of it. The hell with decorum. Something was there!

Professor Zimmer broke into an awkward run, his travel bag and his briefcase banging against his legs. The exit to Statuary Walk was in sight, just past the next tree. He had covered almost three quarters of the distance when something faster and much more powerful grabbed him from behind. The professor fell heavily to the flagstone walkway, breaking his left kneecap on the rough-hewn stone. He had no time to feel the intense pain such an injury would cause. The last sight his terrified brain could process was that of the huge black shadow of Thor's mighty hammer crashing down on his skull.

“You have a great apartment, Lenny.” Babsie flipped eggs onto a plate, added four strips of extra-crispy bacon, and set it down in front of him. “A disposal, a dishwasher, a built-in microwave. You sure know how to live in luxury.”

Lenny grinned as he dug into his breakfast. It had been a lucky night when he'd picked up Babsie. Not only was she a hell of an organizer at the store, but she could cook like a dream, and she loved his apartment. He hoped that Margo was twirling in her grave about now. The last time he'd brought her here, she'd called it a dump

Babsie thought his apartment was wonderful, and Lenny could understand why. He'd seen the hole where she lived when he'd followed her home that first night. The neighborhood was anything but safe, and she had four locks on her door just to protect the few things she had. Babsie didn't have much. He'd checked it out while she was in the little closet she called her powder room. He'd poked around, checking out the place. She owned four little skirts, four blouses, one dress, and two pairs of shoes. That was all she had in her closet, plus the hooker outfit she'd been wearing the night he'd met her.

Her place was clean. Lenny had noticed that. The old linoleum floors sparkled, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. Babsie was a very good housekeeper, but she didn't have much to show for it. Her furniture was so old and rundown, Lenny doubted Salvation Army would take it as a donation. Come to think of it, that was probably where she'd gotten it in the first place. She'd tried to fix it up with covers she'd made, but the couch cushions still sagged, and you could tell it was cheap stuff. She didn't own a television and the only thing she had to play music on was an old portable radio with a busted antenna. No wonder she thought his place was nice. It was the Ritz compared to hers.

Babsie poured his coffee, strong and black just the way he liked it, and sat down beside him. He was toying with the notion of kissing her from across the breakfast table when she jumped up again.

“God, Lenny, I'm such a dummy! I went out to get you a paper while you were sleeping, and I almost forgot it.”

“Hey, thanks.” Lenny grinned even wider as she came back with the morning paper, “you didn't have to go to all that trouble, babe. I could've lived without it until we got to the store.”

“A man should have his coffee and his news first thing in the morning. That's what my daddy used to say. And he should have it before either one gets a chance to get cold. Don't you think that's cute, Lenny?”

“Huh?” Lenny looked up from the first page. Eddie's hit man had struck again. This time it was Professor James Zimmer at Gateway University. Babsie looked concerned. “What's the matter, Lenny? Your face is all white.”

“Somebody I knew just died, that's all.”

“I'm sorry, Lenny. Was it a close friend?”

“Not really, babe.” Lenny sighed. “Just somebody I sort of met once, that's all.” Babsie got up from her chair and moved over to stand behind him. As she reached around to hug him, Lenny grabbed her hands. What a nice lady Babsie was. She wasn't the least bit bitchy like Margo, and she had a real good heart. But now Lenny knew, for sure, that he wasn't in any position to make a move. He could be nailed for five counts of murder any day now and it wasn't over yet. If it wasn't for the really bad mess that Eddie had gotten him into, he'd be seriously considering getting something permanent going with her.

 

 

It was almost noon and Mike was still sleeping. Toni tiptoed past the bed to get her shoes. She'd never slept this late before either. Perhaps it had something to do with how nice it had been to cuddle up next to Mike under the blankets. She'd opened her eyes at seven-thirty just as she'd always done, but once she'd made sure that Mike was still in bed with her, she'd gone right back to sleep.

She looked over at Mike and smiled. He was sleeping on his side with his knees bent up, and his hair was tousled like an innocent little boy's. He certainly hadn't acted like an innocent little boy last night! Toni felt her face growing warm, remembering. It was nice having a sleeping lover in her bed, one that had stayed with her the entire night. Toni noticed his sweatshirt on the floor and picked it up to hang it over the back of the chair before it could get impossibly wrinkled. Then she realized that it wasn't the same color as the one he'd been wearing last night. He'd been sleepwalking again, and he must have gone home to change clothes.

Toni glanced around the bedroom, but nothing seemed to be out of place. Then she checked the office, but she didn't think he'd been wandering around in there. The living room was fine, and so was the kitchen. No, Mike hadn't defrosted the freezer in his sleep. But he must have done something in the middle of the night. He'd been wearing a black sweatshirt. They'd joked about the fact that it was from the University of Tasmania, and she'd called him her little devil all night. The one she'd picked up this morning was light blue.

She didn't start to panic until she saw the car keys on the table. She was sure they'd been hanging on the hook by the door last night. Mike must have driven her car in his sleep again. Thank God he was all right!

Toni put on her shoes and ran down the stairs to the garage. Her car was there, in its proper space, but it was much closer to the pole than she would have parked it. She inspected it carefully, but it appeared to be fine. No dents anywhere. Nothing broken that she could see. At least he hadn't been in an accident. But where had he driven? What had he done? Toni felt her head spinning. He'd come back to her, not to his own bed. Did that mean he was getting better?

“Hi Toni.”

Toni whirled around to see Harry getting out of his car. “Hi, Harry. What are you doing home so early?”

“It's not early to me, kid, it's late. I've been down at the precinct for the past ten hours.”

“What happened, Harry?” Toni did her best to put on a friendly smile. She was so worried about Mike's sleepwalking that it was difficult.

“Murder. They called me in at one in the morning.” Harry sighed. “I'm getting to the point where I hate to hear the phone ring. We figured it started out as a mugging, but the victim must have fought back. If you ever get mugged, Toni, just hand over your wallet or anything else the perp wants.”

“Anything, Harry?”

“Anything you figure isn't worth losing your life over. And there's not much that fits into that category.”

“Okay, Harry. I'll keep that in mind. But we don't have many muggings around here. This is a low crime neighborhood, isn't it?”

“So far it is.” Harry shrugged. “That doesn't mean much, Toni. Look at what happened in Westwood last year. Gang warfare right on the streets. And the little bastards are committed to do it. As long as they've got wheels, they can get out of the slums and go to a nice neighborhood to commit their crimes.”

“Where was the murder, Harry? In Westwood?”

“Not this time. It happened out at Gateway University, right in the middle of the campus. That used to be a low-crime area, too, until this morning.”

“Gateway? Isn't that the religious college out on the 118 Freeway?”

Harry nodded. “Say, Toni, maybe you can help me out on something. I need a woman's point of view. Why would a perfectly ordinary college professor carry around a bag full of women's lingerie?”

Toni thought fast. Why would a college professor carry lingerie on the campus? “I'm not sure, Harry. Maybe he had a fancy girlfriend. Or maybe he wanted to be somebody's fancy girlfriend.”

“Toni!”

Harry looked shocked, and Toni laughed. “Okay, I'm just being realistic. He could have been a closet cross-dresser. Are you sure it belonged to the professor?”

“No.” Harry frowned. “It was brand new, Toni.”

“Well? Was it his size?”

Harry's face turned red. “I should have called you when it happened, Toni. You're better at this kind of thing. I'll call and have them check it out right away. Anything else?”

Toni noticed that Harry pulled out his notebook, and that made her feel good. She had to concentrate on the problem at hand even though she was still worried about Mike.

“Okay. Let's assume that it didn't belong to the Professor. The killer could have planted it on him to start a scandal. After all, Gateway's a religious college.”

“Yeah. That's a good one.” Harry wrote it down and looked at her for more.

“Maybe it wasn't a mugging at all, Harry. The killer might have made it look that way to throw you off the track.”

We thought of that, Toni. We're not locked into the mugging concept, but everything fits into the pattern except for those pink satin panties with the little . . .” Harry stopped and cleared his throat. “Never mind Toni, It's not important.”

“If you say so, Harry. Tell me what you've got so far.”

“Okay. The professor was murdered between midnight and twelve-thirty this morning. A blow to the head with a blunt instrument.” Harry cleared his throat again. “I don't need to go into all the gory details. He was walking across campus to his car, and someone hit him and cleaned him out. Wallet, credit cards, everything was missing. And they got into his office on campus and messed that up too.”

“What did the Professor teach?”

“Three classes in something called media, one each on radio, television, and newspapers, and its effect on society. The secretary went through his office and said there was nothing missing in there.”

“Your killer must have been looking for something. What kind of man was the professor? Did the students like him?”

Harry nodded. “He was a real prince of a guy, according to everyone we talked to. The students liked him a lot, but they said he was a tough grader. And all the staff liked him, too. Nobody we talked to could think of a reason why anyone would want to kill him. Oh yeah, one other thing. He'd just come back from a convention in Washington D.C., and the security guard said no one expected him back until Monday. That cuts down on the probability that he was a specific target.”

Toni frowned. “Three questions, Harry. Does Gateway have any night classes? Were there any special functions going on last night? And do you know which buildings are open at night?”

Harry patted his notebook. “We thought of that, Toni. There were no night classes, so the campus was practically deserted by the time the professor got there around ten. And there were no special functions last night. The only building open was the library, and it closed at eleven.”

“How far is the library from the professor's office? Could someone have seen the light in his window?”

“That's possible.”

“All right, then. A student at the library sees the Professor's light and hangs around after the library closes. You said the professor was a tough grader, so maybe the student was trying to steal one of his tests. Or change a grade. He might not have wanted to hurt the Professor, just knock him out so he could steal the keys to his office.”

“Yep.” Harry made another note. “That's good, Toni. We'll interview every student enrolled in his classes. And I guess we'd better check around for the kids that flunked out, too. That lingerie could've been a way to get even. And the kid could have messed up the office for spite.”

“That sounds good, Harry. Could a former student have driven on campus without a pass? Or a gate card? Or whatever they use to get in?”

Harry laughed. “You could drive a tank right onto that campus and no one would notice. There's no security system at the gate, and it's a big place. There are a lot of back ways to come in.”

“How about security guards?”

“There's only one guy on at night. And he spends most of his time chasing off the high school kids who come out there to drink and mess around.”

“That doesn't help much, does it, Harry?”

“Not at all.” Harry sighed. “We're going to concentrate on the students and the staff, but that's really just a fielder's choice. Our guy could be someone from outside with no connection to the college at all. Anybody who was out for a midnight drive last night could have zipped onto that campus and killed the professor.”